


Inje

by autotunedd



Series: Inje [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:17:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autotunedd/pseuds/autotunedd
Summary: A proposal oneshot + coming out.





	1. Inje

**Author's Note:**

> When dispatch attacked Jiyong the other day, I ended up having an emotional sad-fest with a friend about how he can’t catch a break. A few days beforehand, someone had asked me to write a proposal scene one day, that had two parts, and I was so sentimental and emotional about Jiyong after dispatches garbage, I was like ‘fine. My child will be happy in fantasy land if he can’t be happy in real life. Give this boy what he deserves!'
> 
> Of course, the dispatch stuff escalated after that and everything got worse, then I was iffy about writing this, because in a way it feels like I’m making light of a very heartbreaking real-life situation by turning it into fanfic fodder, but I had already mentioned I was doing it on twitter and the details were already there, so I decided to write it anyway. I hope y’all can understand where this is coming from. 
> 
> Last note: The nameless scandal at the beginning has nothing to do with his current woes, and this is set a few years in the future. Dispatch style drama just an easy place to start because of its frequency.

 

 

Seunghyun enters the room as a nearly faceless shadow, the light of the hallway behind him obscuring Jiyong’s vision of him. Still, he intuits the look on Seunghyun’s face without seeing it. Pathos and concern. He keeps his eyes on the ground when Seunghyun sits down beside him, their thighs together, on the floor at the end of his bed. The light is dimmed to its lowest setting. If he looks up now, he’ll see the worry on Seunghyun’s face laced with anger and indignation and he doesn’t want to see it, because it makes him feel ashamed. It shouldn’t, but it does.  
  
‘Where is it?’ Seunghyun asks.  
  
Jiyong thinks about playing dumb, but they have done this before, and he is too tired to pretend. He reaches behind him and slides his laptop out from under the bed, where he pushed it after hearing the front door open. He pulls it into his lap and flips it open, eyes landing on the top comments of the article baying for his blood. The most recent in a long chain, each one chipping away at him piece by piece.  
  
‘I told you not to read this stuff’.  
  
Jiyong smiles and shrugs, following one popular comment that is so vehement and full of hatred, it makes him tremble. And for what? A falsehood. A rumour founded in nothing; something so antithetical to the twenty years of his public life so far that it doesn’t seem real.  
  
‘How could I not?’  
  
It is the third campaign in as many months to knock him off his pedestal. He hasn’t updated his social media in weeks, or shown his face in public, in the hopes that the media would leave him alone, that whatever vindictive reasoning lay behind it all would fade and fizzle out.  
  
‘When people abuse me on the street, I should know why’.  
  
‘They won’t do that’.  
  
‘They’ll want to,’ he answers, ‘like all these people’. He gestures at the screen and scrolls, in search of a positive comment or someone with an objective take but they are few and far between. At the end of the day, maybe this is what you’re left with after a life of public service. They love you until they don’t.  
  
‘You’ll get through this,’ Seunghyun says simply, ‘like all the other times’.  
  
‘I shouldn’t have to’.  
  
_‘No’._  
  
Seunghyun squeezes his thigh but Jiyong still can’t lift his head to meet his gaze. He is embarrassed. It is humiliating to go through this over and over, to be victimised in this way and be defenceless. To let it chip away at him and erode his soul. He should be stronger. After all these years, he should be better equipped to handle the knocks, but it is working in reverse. Each blow gathers steam now, picking up weight so the next deals more damage. At this point, he feels exceptionally fragile. Maybe the next blow will kill him.  
  
‘How can I bear it?’ he asks, rhetorically. ‘For how long? I haven’t done anything. I tell the truth and it doesn’t matter. The truth never matters. Why not?’  
  
‘I don’t know’.  
  
‘Do they want me to kill myself?’  
  
_‘Jiyong’._  
  
At this admonishment, he lifts his head to meet Seunghyun’s gaze and on his face is everything he expected to find. Love, concern, frustration. The familiarity of it plucks at his nerves. It makes him angry.  
  
‘I’ve worked hard my whole life,’ he says. ‘I stay out of trouble. I never defend myself because I know I’ll make things worse. I stay quiet. I _live_ quietly. I’ve become housebound and they still won’t leave me alone. What have I done? Who have I hurt? What justifies this?’ he asks, tapping the screen.  
  
‘I don’t know,’ Seunghyun answers, unable to say anything else. What can he say? He can’t offer a satisfactory answer because there isn’t one. They are through the looking glass. In the post-truth world, people rise and fall like this. Sometimes it all ends, without you ever knowing why.  
  
Jiyong looks back at the screen and stops on the headline of the article. It is so meaningless to him, it could be a parody. Except the fallout is real. It was real for the last furore, and the one before that, and the one before that, yet his popularity remains. Endorsement offers continue. Anticipation for future albums remain. Invitations flow from fashion houses. Celebrities still cite him as an inspiration or a famous crush. The media outlets which conjure these scandals from nothing, still report on his successes. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe, it would be easier if they finished him off. Instead, he is expected to take it forever, on and on, enduring the abuse and the violations to provide sport for people he has never met.  
  
‘I can’t take this anymore,’ he says truthfully.  
  
‘Heaviest is the head that wears the crown. Isn’t that what they say?’  
  
Jiyong turns to Seunghyun and shrugs.  
  
‘I don’t want to wear it anymore. I never asked for it’.  
  
‘I know,’ Seunghyun answers sympathetically. ‘But they gave it to you all the same. The _public_ gave it to you. The _industry_ gave it to you. Fifteen years and you still don’t understand who you are to these people. You’re a national icon. That makes the target on your back that much larger’.  
  
‘Why is there a target at all?’  
  
‘Because you dared to be somebody. That’s all. An article about you can feed its author for a week. By taking pieces of you away, by taking you _down_ , lesser people advance themselves. They trade your life for theirs, because they want some of the take, or they want a raise, or a promotion, or better job prospects, better opportunities for themselves. All they have to do is take you down. All they have to do is knock you down a few pegs’.  
  
Jiyong smiles, knowing all of this already. He knows the reasons for the articles, for the constant campaigns trying to dislodge him from fame. Regardless, they devastate him. It doesn’t matter that no journalist knows him, that the people commenting don’t know him, that nobody in the world bar a handful of people actually know him. Each time this happens, it feels so personal, it is as if someone has reached through the screen to physically twist the knife in. He turns towards Seunghyun and rests his cheek on the end of the bed.  
  
‘If you leave me, I won’t have anyone left. You know that? Nobody I can trust. Nobody who really knows me’.  
  
He doesn’t say it to be morbid, or self-pitying. He says it out of fear. If only a handful of people can defend him truthfully, what happens when they leave?  
  
‘I’ll never leave’.  
  
‘One day’.  
  
‘No. Never’.  
  
Seunghyun moves his arm onto the bed so his hand stretches across the top, stopping behind Jiyong’s neck. It is a comforting gesture, like throwing an arm around someone at the movies. Jiyong kisses his wrist.  
  
‘I love you,’ Seunghyun says. ‘I’ll always be here’.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘I’ve loved you my whole life,’ he answers simply. ‘I’ve never wavered’.  
  
‘Never?’  
  
Seunghyun smiles tenderly and shrugs.  
  
‘Never. I remember when we first started dating and I was in the honeymoon phase of loving every little thing you did, in a really obnoxious way. I remember thinking the way you put your shoes on was incredible, and the way you brushed your teeth was endearing. Nothing you did was too small for my attention,’ Seunghyun says. ‘And I’ve never loved you less than I did then. We have spent so much of the last sixteen years together and never, for one second, have I wanted space from you. _Never_. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens. You know that’.  
  
Jiyong’s eyes water but he blinks it back. He knows Seunghyun loves him. How could he not? How could he stick with him through all of this otherwise? How could he be here, like he is now, saying all the right things if he didn’t mean them? Whenever something happens, if they aren’t together, Jiyong only has to listen for the key in the front door.  
  
‘If I gave all this away?’ Jiyong asks. ‘If I put G-Dragon in a box somewhere and never opened it again?’  
  
‘Even then’.  
  
‘If I leave the company? If I give this life up entirely and choose to live quietly, somewhere far away, where nobody will ever find me?’  
  
‘I’ll be there’.  
  
‘Really?’ Jiyong asks. ‘Because I think that’s what I want to do’.  
  
His voice breaks at the end. When he swallows, his throat feels packed with heavy stones. In an instant, his stomach aches and his limbs feel heavy, the way it does when you’re trying to speak hard truths about yourself. Because this is the truth. He wants this life to end. He wants to start a new chapter, one so far removed from this one, he doesn’t know where to begin.  
  
Seunghyun answers, so contented and unsurprised.  
  
‘Just tell me where we’re going’.  
  
He cups his cheek, and Jiyong leans into the touch, blinking back tears; not only for Seunghyun’s loyalty, but for finally loosing his secret upon the world, this secret he has laboured under for years. His unflinching desire to be free of it all. To be somebody else.  
  
‘My contract expires next month,’ he says quietly. ‘I don’t want to re-sign. I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how not to re-sign. If I don’t, that affects you. It affects Youngbae, Daesung, Seungri, everybody. People I’ve grown up with will resent me. People rely on me to make a living. My manager. My make-up artist. My bodyguard. All those people count on me. All the fans---'  
  
‘You’ve served your time,’ Seunghyun answers. ‘The people closest to you will understand. Everyone else will or won’t, but you’ve done enough. You’ve given all you have to give. If you don’t have anymore, you don’t have it’.  
  
There is something in the way Seunghyun says this, knowingly, that cuts right to the core of it.  
  
‘I _don’t_ have anymore,’ Jiyong cries.  
  
He doesn’t have anymore left to give. It’s that simple. Maybe, in the future, he will feel full again; full of life and passion and drive, but for now, there is nothing left. He needs time to recover and heal, because he has been hurt and maimed. He is injured in ways not visible to the eye. He needs to be nameless and faceless. He needs to be free of the onslaught of stalkers and journalists and a multitude with ever increasing expectations. He needs to be safe. He wants the next part of his life to be different. He wants understanding and compassion. He has been trapped for fifteen years in the same routine, the same cycle--- and now he has an escape. There is a trap door at last. All he has to do is use it.  
  
‘I will live any life with you,’ Seunghyun says in support. ‘Any life that you want’.  
  
‘You wouldn’t miss it?’  
  
Jiyong gestures around the room, at all the trappings of a life well lived in entertainment. Gold records on the windowsill, awards on the shelves.  
  
‘I’ve never enjoyed the spotlight that much,’ Seunghyun answers honestly. ‘I’m too self-conscious. It makes me neurotic. I’m grateful,’ he says, ‘for everything it’s given me. I have enough money to last me the rest of my life, so I don’t need to re-sign. I can find my own way. I’m ready to move on now. We’re getting older. Things can’t stay the same forever’.  
  
‘No’.  
  
‘Maybe it’s time we both tried something new’.  
  
‘A house in the country?’  
  
‘Perfect’.  
  
‘Would you garden?’ Jiyong teases. ‘Would you get out there in your visor and talk to the ajumma’s at the market?’  
  
‘One hundred percent’.  
  
‘Would you kill a chicken for our dinner?’ he asks morbidly. ‘Would you pluck their poor little feathers out?’  
  
‘Are we moving somewhere without a supermarket?’ Seunghyun asks. ‘I might become a vegetarian’.  
  
Jiyong laughs and kisses the inside of Seunghyun’s wrist. He is grateful for the support, whether it ever eventuates or not. Maybe Seunghyun is right about wanting freedom for himself. Maybe, in some parallel universe, they can both cast off their shackles and life a life entirely new. He has dreamt about it enough times. On a whim, he thinks how much more real his fantasies might feel if Seunghyun knew about them, and if he contributed.  
  
‘Can I show you something?’  
  
Seunghyun nods so Jiyong straightens the laptop on his lap and opens a new tab, opening a long-standing bookmark for a realtor’s listing. He scrolls until the image of a house’s exterior fills the screen. He turns the laptop so Seunghyun can better see it.  
  
‘This is in _Inje_ , in the mountains. It’s been on the market for a year. It’s too expensive, and too remote, I suppose’.  
  
Seunghyun lowers his head so he can better see and scrutinises the exterior, appraisingly. A three-story house with one story hidden below ground level. The first floor is concrete with the upper floor covered in galvanised steel, a copper colour that from a distance has the appearance of wood. It fits into its forested surroundings without being incongruous.  
  
‘It’s a nice area. It’s so quiet there, and so green. It feels like another planet,’ Jiyong says. ‘I went and had a look a few months ago. When I stood on the drive, waiting for the realtor, I closed my eyes and all I could hear were the occasional bird and this background hum of water in the distance. It was like white noise, silent but not uncomfortable. It was peaceful. Meditative, you know?’  
  
He opens the slideshow and clicks along to the next image.  
  
‘Look at the inside’.  
  
The interior is a haphazard mix of styles that all work together in a seamless way. Parts remind him of western medieval churches, or old monasteries. Others are distinctly Korean with dark floorboards and traditional paper doors. The house is unfurnished, so it looks smaller than it is.  
  
‘This is the master bedroom,’ he says on one image.  
  
‘Wow. Look at that’.  
  
Seunghyun marvels at the glass doors opening onto a large balcony. While not too far up the mountain, the house is high enough to reveal a beautiful vista from one side, overlooking the woods and the nearby river. It’s a different view to what they have become accustomed to in Seoul. From Seunghyun’s villa, he can only see high-rises. From his own, Jiyong can see a glimpse of the Han river, but it’s nothing to gloat about.    
  
‘Here’s something for you,’ Jiyong says, clicking through to the next image. ‘Look at this wine cellar’.  
  
Seunghyun slaps a hand over his heart.  
  
‘Bliss’.  
  
The wine cellar is big enough to accommodate even Seunghyun’s collection, and it comes with its own small bar and comfortable nook with a corner chair and table.  
  
‘What is that?’  
  
The image clicks over and Jiyong points to one corner.  
  
‘This is one of the outdoor areas. It has a fire pit and a pizza oven and there’s a path here, see--- that goes all the way around the house and through the trees. It opens up onto a narrow stretch of the river. That’s part of the property. It’s a big lot. You can’t do much with it, but you can enjoy it knowing there won’t be a carpark there next week. You can’t really hear the river during the day either, but the realtor said you could hear it at night. I think that would be nice,’ Jiyong shrugs. ‘It felt nice being there anyway, like if you bought it, you would be preserving something meaningful. I saw frogs!’  
  
‘It looks great,’ Seunghyun answers.  
  
‘I wanted to buy it,’ Jiyong says. ‘I almost did’.  
  
‘What stopped you?’  
  
‘Life,’ he shrugs, gesturing around. ‘This has all felt so inescapable. I never thought I could have a life outside this. Whenever I imagined myself in these other places, it was never really me. It was a version of me that doesn’t exist. Me in an adjacent universe, you know? Me outside of time. Me in my next life. Me, if I were somebody else’.  
  
He taps the laptop screen.  
  
‘In my head, a version of me buys this house and lives a happy life there. He paints and he reads books and he takes up meditation, and he learns about the world. He has two cats. He learns how to cook. He puts music on at night and dances around the house with nobody watching. _And_ ,’ he says excitedly, getting lost in the fantasy, ‘he _sings_ , for the fun of it—not because he has dependents, or because he has employees and people to please and take care of. He sings because things come to him in the moment, because nature makes him feel complete, because he is happy and the words and the melodies just come out. Unadulterated music. He has all of that here in this house’.  
  
Seunghyun looks at him intently and Jiyong’s gaze drops for a moment.  
  
‘Since the day we first stepped foot on TV, I have imagined that other version of myself living all the varied lives I thought I was missing out on. Whenever life got too hard, I would create a fantasy in my head and I would populate it with the things and the people I loved. I’ve never stopped doing that, but this one?’ he says, nodding towards the laptop, ‘is the worst, because it feels so within my grasp but still impossible’.  
  
Seunghyun frowns and Jiyong tries to dispel it with a smile. It is nice to talk about this, even if it is a dream. It is nice to let it breathe. It feels nice for someone else to know it exists and to consider its possibilities. In a way, it makes him feel better, like planning a holiday you’ll never go on. So, he continues.  
  
‘I sent this listing to an interior decorator I know, and she sent me back all these ideas. I’ve always liked my apartments to be minimalist, you know? Marbles and neutral colours with a few plants here and there. Because this,’ Jiyong says, tapping the tile between them, ‘says I have money. It says I’m important. As a kid, all I wanted was this proof of success. I’ve been happy in this house. It was everything I thought it would be. Still, this decorator had crazy ideas for this _Inje_ house. She imagined a wild blend of styles that was part traditional, part modern, and everything in between. She sent me images of Persian rugs and Moroccan floor tiles. There were so many vibrant colours. She did a sketch of one room and it looked so busy, but it looked warm and lived-in. It had character and personality. Somehow, it felt like me. Like the person I could be in this other life. It made me want to be the type of person who could live like that’.  
  
Jiyong turns again and rests his head on the end of the bed, cheek on the edge, facing Seunghyun. His eyes drift shut.  
  
‘When I close my eyes, I see this other me. I know what clothes he wears, and the wine he drinks, and the music he listens to, and the way he wakes up in the morning. I know how he feels when he opens the bedroom doors onto the balcony to let in the morning sun. I don’t know why. I see it all so clearly. Then, I open my eyes and wherever I am, I’m disappointed’.  
  
He smiles and his eyes open. He shakes his head to dispel the ether. Seunghyun responds by gently cupping the back of Jiyong’s head on the bed.  
  
‘Don’t do that’.  
  
‘What?’  
  
‘Shake your head like this is a fever dream,’ Seunghyun answers. ‘If this is what you want, if this is the house you want to live in, buy it’.  
  
_‘Seunghyun’._  
  
‘You can _have_ this life,’ Seunghyun says, touching the laptop with his free hand. ‘I want to share this life with you. I would live in this house. It looks beautiful. You’ve already convinced me, and you’ve pinned all your happiness on living in it. It doesn’t have to be a fantasy’.  
  
Jiyong smiles at this continuing support, but it isn’t that easy. It’s never that easy.  
  
‘Your contract is expiring,’ Seunghyun says resolutely. ‘Your friends are all married or close-enough, starting families or moving into different phases of their life. Your sister is moving away. Your parents are following her’.  
  
‘And Big Bang?’  
  
‘We’ve been doing this for sixteen years. Youngbae is about to become a father. Daesung is getting married. Seungri has work lined up for the next three years. We could all use time. We all deserve to know who we are outside of a contract. Hanging on for posterity isn’t any kind of hill to die on. In six months-time, where will you and I be?’  
  
Jiyong doesn’t answer because he hates what that answer is.  
  
‘We’ll still be _here,’_ Seunghyun says, _‘_ right here in this spot, with a dwindling pool of contacts, wondering how our lives could be better’.    
  
It is here that Jiyong’s resolve begins to crumble, with Seunghyun passionately defending his right to give up and to dismantle all their lives. If he makes this decision, nothing will ever be the same again, for any of them. It is a hard responsibility to bear.  
  
‘Where do you want to be in six months-time? Sitting on the floor of your bedroom, with tears running down your face because your life is so unbearable? Or here,’ Seunghyun says, tapping the computer screen, ‘in this place you already love? You are already happier in this place than you are here in this room’.  
  
Jiyong falters.  
  
He falters because Seunghyun is giving him permission, genuine permission to throw away his life, to shirk off fame and live quietly out of reach, and he is saying they can do it together--- and without hurting the people closest to him. On some level, Jiyong knows that’s true. The thought of making this decision without talking to everyone first makes him feel weak, but in his heart, he knows they will support it. There will always be options later down the line, but for now? He needs to have one option alone. An end to all this.  
  
Maybe, for the last few years, as his resolve has broken down, and he has been battered and broken by unending struggle, he has been holding on for Seunghyun’s sake; out of fear that a change could disrupt their life together. No escape plan is worth taking without him being a part of it.  
  
‘Buy it,’ Seunghyun says intuitively. ‘Let’s go!’  
  
‘You would live here with me?’ Jiyong asks, eyes ghosting over the screen.  
  
Seunghyun tucks Jiyong’s hair behind his ear.  
  
‘Absolutely’.  
  
Jiyong scrutinises Seunghyun’s face for any shred of indecision of misguided guile and finds none. Seunghyun reads like an open book, one enthusiastic about moving forward, one who believes in it wholeheartedly like it was his own fantasy all along.  
  
‘Why would you do that?’ Jiyong asks. ‘I’m talking about moving to Inje. There’s nothing there’.  
  
‘You would be there,’ Seunghyun answers simply. ‘And I like peace and quiet. I’m an introvert. I want to take it easy for a while. Inje isn’t another planet. I can still see friends when I feel like it or spend time in Seoul now and then. It’s a two-hour drive, that’s all’.  
  
‘Are you being serious?’  
  
‘Dead serious. Buy this house you love. If you want this life, go get it. I’m right behind you’.  
  
Jiyong’s stomach turns and his heart pounds in his chest. He knows he’ll have to tell the others and that each conversation will individually break his heart—just like telling the company that has raised him and sheltered him, people he won’t be able to tell until it comes time to re-sign and he can’t. He is afraid they will try and change his mind if they know ahead of time. The revenue he brings in is substantial. Maybe leaving will do more damage than he thinks. This decision will harm people, one way or another. Regardless, he can’t make any other decision. Not now with Seunghyun behind him. It is too late. If he doesn’t do this now, he’ll never do it and the remainder of his life will be short and unhappy. He doesn’t want that. He deserves _better_ than that.  
  
‘Okay,’ he answers breathlessly.  
  
Seunghyun smiles instantly, a smile so wide and hopeful that Jiyong smiles too.  
  
‘Okay?’  
  
‘Yeah,’ Jiyong answers nervously. ‘I’ll buy it. Let’s go. Let’s live there’.  
  
Seunghyun moves in and Jiyong feels layers of stress and hurt peel back with Seunghyun’s gentle, cheery kiss. He lays a hand on his cheek in answer. He doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t know what to say. There is too much to be said, it is easier to say nothing.  
  
‘How long do you think you can put up with me for, when it’s just the two of us, with nobody else around for miles?’ Seunghyun asks in jest.  
  
‘A few months, at least’.  
  
Jiyong kisses him again. The laptop slides from his lap onto the floor and he doesn’t care. He holds Seunghyun close.  
  
‘I’ll never get tired of you,’ he says. ‘I want to see your face every day for the rest of my life. I’m so grateful to you’.  
  
‘How sentimental,’ Seunghyun answers.  
  
‘Well, big things are happening’.  
  
They separate and Jiyong takes stock of himself. With his hands on his chest, he takes a deep breath that shudders out of him. It is sheer _relief._ The logistics of breaking free make him ache. He thinks of all the people he is going to hurt and disappoint, of the repercussions he can’t even comprehend yet; but he allows himself a moment of pride within all that. Pride that he has the agency to extricate himself from his circumstances; that he has the strength finally to make those choices and to put himself first. And why? Because he has support. Because he has long since learned it is better to accept help than to shy away from it, thinking he is unworthy. There is nothing Seunghyun has done for him, that he wouldn’t do in return. They are lucky. _He_ is lucky.  
  
‘Do you feel better?’  
  
Jiyong turns back to Seunghyun and shrugs, unable to find the words to explain the weight that has been lifted. A lot of it remains; _will_ remain until he is implanted firmly in a new life and maybe even then, there will be lingering side effects of guilt, but he no longer feels trapped. He feels a happier, fuller future supplanting the unhappy one of an hour ago. He is grateful beyond measure.  
  
‘Everything’s changing,’ he says quietly.  
  
Seunghyun smiles with such fullness and love, Jiyong misses the hesitation in it, the quick flash of fear. So, what comes next is unexpected.  
  
‘Is there room for one more change in your life?’  
  
‘That depends. What is it?’  
  
‘Marry me’.  
  
Jiyong’s heart skips a beat. He is stunned into perfect stillness and silence, the only sign of life the way his next breath hitches, and the one after that. Warmth invades his body. An inexplicable heat and anxiety roll through him from the shock of it.  
  
_‘What?’_  
  
‘Marry me,’ Seunghyun says emphatically. ‘Say yes at least. I know it’s complicated logistically but we could figure it out. We could go overseas and do it, or we could stay engaged forever without ever going all the way, but I have to ask you this. After fifteen years, I’ve run out of ways to say I love you. This is the last one I’ve got left. Marry me’.  
  
A plaintive sound escapes Jiyong’s lips and he doesn’t know why. His eyes water and his body aches. It burns and shakes in ways he has no control over. He has never once in his life let himself imagine getting married. Not when the first of his friends got married, or the second, or the third. Not after ten years with Seunghyun. It has never been an option, so he has never entertained it. He has never yearned for it or lamented their circumstances. Being with Seunghyun has always been enough. He doesn’t need a ring or a piece of paper, or for the world to know and validate what they have. And yet—hearing these words has broken him apart. Like a door has opened into a secret place he never knew existed.  
  
‘You would _marry_ me?’  
  
Seunghyun answers breathlessly, a nervous laugh preceding it.  
  
‘Jiyong, I want to live in that house in the middle of nowhere with you. I want to wake up every day and find you painting on the terrace. I want to watch you dance like no-one can see you. I want everything in that fantasy of yours. I want to be there for all of it. For the rest of your life, I want to be there. Maybe getting married is unrealistic, I know that, but I _want_ it. Why can’t we do it? Out there in the mountains, who’s going to stop us? Who’ll interfere?’  
  
Jiyong inhales sharply and it shudders out of him. He tries to get control of himself, to _think_ in a situation where thinking is impossible.  
  
‘I don’t have a ring,’ Seunghyun continues, looking around aimlessly, ‘but this might do for now’. He takes one of his own rings off and rolls it between his fingers for a moment, like it is weighted, heavier now because of what it represents. He holds it lax between them--- an offering, but one Jiyong can refuse.  
  
Jiyong physically clutches his chest, a hand flat across the front of his shirt as if that might help him to breathe, because he is suddenly having trouble with it. He is almost hyperventilating.  
  
‘Can you ask me properly?’  
  
Seunghyun laughs nervously and nods in answer.  
  
_‘Kwon Jiyong---’_  
  
Jiyong sobs quickly, a single sound leached from his chest. He claps a hand over his mouth in answer to it. Seunghyun smiles and continues undeterred. Maybe, sitting on the floor together at the end of his bed is an unconventional way to do this, but as Seunghyun speaks, there are no regrets. There is no possible way to ask for more than this.  
  
‘I love you,’ Seunghyun smiles. ‘I have loved you forever. I have loved you since the day I met you and every day since, and I will love you until the day I die. I don’t like to make promises I can’t keep, but I’ve never doubted this one. I’ve never doubted you’.  
  
A tear rolls down Jiyong’s face and he wipes it away.  
  
‘I’ve never thought about marriage before. This isn’t something I planned beforehand, but you just made this enormous decision to improve your life, to take a chance on being happy, and I want that for you. I want to be part of that. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove I love you. We’ve been as good as married for a decade already. I just want you to say yes. I want you to believe we can figure it out someday’.  
  
A second tear joins the first but Jiyong lets it go. It rolls down his cheek and down his jaw.  
  
‘At Youngbae’s wedding, I remember a part of me was miserable. I felt like an asshole for that,’ Seunghyun says. ‘I didn’t know what was wrong with me. But I think I was upset that I couldn’t do that for you. That we would never get to experience that. You and I have known each-other so much longer than he had known Hyorin. You and I were already in a long-term relationship the first time they met, but there we were at _their_ wedding, in a room full of everyone they loved, celebrating them. _Witnessing_ them. Something about that broke my fucking heart. Even for Daesung, maybe there was a moment of bitterness when he told me he was engaged. They all deserve their happiness, but what about us? Why do I have to spend the rest of my life congratulating other people on their happiness, while keeping mine a secret? Why can’t I ask you to marry me?’  
  
Jiyong’s heart cracks in two from the realisation that maybe deep down he has felt a similar way. Not on the night of Youngbae’s wedding, but in the aftermath. In the aftermath of all those weddings, when each story about married life trickled back to him in anecdotes he had already been experiencing for years. Maybe that hurt.  
  
He cries, sincerely.  
  
‘I don’t know what happens next. All I know is that I love you,’ Seunghyun says emphatically. ‘I want you to marry me, and if I have to wait fifty years, that’s okay. I believe in us. I believe we can outlast the obstacles in front of us. I really believe that in ten, twenty, thirty years, we will still be together. I believe that one day we will finally get that moment, where the people we love can _witness_ us. We deserve that. I want to try’.  
  
Seunghyun holds the ring tightly between them.  
  
‘Please marry me’.  
  
Jiyong wipes his face with both hands and looks at the ring. He only means to touch it, as if confirming that it’s real, but it slides effortlessly onto his finger. It is too big but he holds his hand out and fans his fingers and feels the full weight of what it represents, whether it comes to fruition or not, whether it takes twenty years or not. Maybe it will _never_ happen, maybe this country that has given them everything will be too slow in catching up to the world. Maybe it will never happen for them--- but god it feels nice to imagine it. The words have power. The question has power. The answer has power. They all signify something; the final line between a relationship and a partnership. For better or worse, for richer or poorer. Everything they already are to one another. This gesture, whatever happens, is just the signature on the declaration. In all the ways that count, they are married already. Still--  
  
Jiyong closes the distance between them and throws an arm around Seunghyun’s neck. His words catch as they come out.  
  
_‘I’ll marry you’._  
  
Seunghyun pulls him into his lap and they find each-other’s lips. Between each brief peck, Jiyong whispers into Seunghyun’s mouth, _I’ll marry you._ Two, three, four times. Again and again. The kiss deepens between their two smiles, and Jiyong leans into it completely, into Seunghyun’s lips and everything else. A life together, alone, with enough room to stretch their legs and feel some freedom for a change. The future is now, more than ever, like a dream, but it’s real and it is something they can build together.  
  
Jiyong withdraws enough to wipe a tear from Seunghyun’s cheek and they both take the chance to sniff.  
  
‘I love you,’ Jiyong smiles, his face still wet. ‘I love you so much’.  
  
Then a passing thought makes him sad for a moment, and stroking Seunghyun’s cheek with his thumb, he lets himself dwell on it.  
  
‘I wish I had somebody to tell’.  
  
He extends his arm behind Seunghyun’s head and models the ring for himself.  
  
‘Who’ll ever know?’  
  
Seunghyun kisses his bicep.  
  
‘I don’t know’.  
  
‘It makes me kind of sad,’ Jiyong says, bringing his arms back to circle Seunghyun’s neck. ‘Who would believe me? Who would believe how perfect this was? Did I tell you that? This _was_ perfect. You’re perfect,’ Jiyong smiles. ‘I love you. _I love you’._  
  
‘We do okay,’ Seunghyun affirms.  
  
Jiyong slips the ring off his finger and slides it back onto Seunghyun’s.  
  
‘I don’t want to lose it,’ he says. ‘And you know--- _practise’._  
  
Seunghyun smiles and models the ring, back on his own finger again.  
  
‘You’re a natural’.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a request fill and the second part of this persons request was a coming out moment, where Jiyong tells someone in his family about his life.

_  
_  
  
  
With his head in his arms on the dining-room table, he watches his mother and sister maneouver around the kitchen, cooking the staple family dish. His stomach aches and he yawns. He has barely eaten or slept in days. Yesterday, he signed the final papers for the house in Inje. Everything was rushed through. For the last twenty something hours, he has officially owned it. There is no going back now, not that he wants to. He is at peace with the decision he’s made.  
  
One of the hardest parts has come and gone. He spoke to Youngbae, and Daesung and Seungri. Individually, they reacted differently to the news but were all ultimately okay with it. They all shared their own plans to re-sign their contracts, but also their contentedness to focus on their individual careers. Later, down the line, who knows? They won’t call this a disbandment, just a hiatus with a promise to return some day. It isn’t the truth, per se, but it won’t be a lie either. Regardless, he is profoundly grateful for all of them. He is grateful that he loves each of them more than when they started. The relief of having their permission to step away makes him feel light on his toes. Of course, there are more obstacles ahead. He will have to tell the company soon. For now though, he doesn’t think about it.  
  
After his calls were made, he was able to de-stress a little and think about the practicalities of buying a new house and everything that needs to be done to make it his own. Seunghyun seemed to have no strong opinions about decorating, so Jiyong hired his friend like he wanted to. In another life, he would feel guilty about not decorating himself, but he is content to alter and grow with the house. He wants to start fresh. Letting someone create an entirely new world for him feels like the right choice. With a blank cheque, she will have free reign when he hands the keys over in a few days-time. Now, all there is left to do is pack.  
  
His apartment will sit empty, and so will Seunghyun’s. They talked about selling, but it didn’t feel right. At least not yet. The future is such an unpredictable thing. If nothing else, they will have somewhere to stay when they both come to Seoul. He is still weighing up the pros and cons of renting his apartment out so it can remain lived in, instead of gathering dust like a mausoleum. Either way, he will divest it of everything valuable, and divvy things up between the auction house and Inje. He and Seunghyun have lived together for years, sharing each-other’s homes in equal measure. A shared house though, excites him. They can arrange it together, in ways they both enjoy. A perfect amalgamation of their different personalities. Or they’ll fight about cushions and faux married life will continue.  
  
Jiyong allows a smile to tug at his lips. They are engaged. In a way, the term feels alien to him. He can’t bring himself to say future husband, or fiancé. The words strike him as bizarre. He isn’t opposed to them, they are just so new. They have never been a part of his life, so he’s adjusting. Part of that adjustment is understanding it may never happen. Not here. Not at home. There is no legal way for them to get married, here or anywhere else. Not yet anyway. That makes him ache, but what Seunghyun said rings true. The engagement matters. Whether marriage follows or not, or if it takes fifty years. The important parts have already happened. The rest is just a signature on a piece of paper.  


* * *  


He sinks low in his chair until the wooden back presses into his neck, his mother finishing the last of her soup. It is the same closely guarded recipe she has been using since he was a kid. It has become a time-honoured tradition, something expected at family lunches and dinners. When he moved out of home, he was barely an adult. Being on his own was harder than he ever expected, but in those first few months she would come to the dorms and make soup for him, and everything felt easier for a while. Maybe it’s childish to think so, but her soup helped ease him into independence. Soon, he won’t see as much of her, or his father, or Dami either. They are all moving away. Dami, to follow her husband who has a two-year contract in Suwon. His parents to Samcheok to take care of a distant older relative he has never met. All of their emigrations temporary, but painful. He was born in Seoul and has never left it. All his family memories are centred here, in this place they’ve always been together. Now, they will be apart. He hasn’t told them he’s moving to Inje yet.  
  
This is the last lunch they have planned together as a family before Dami moves, and his parents a week after her. His father should be here, but he had some business to take care of, so they will drink together next week. They are having lunch at Dami’s, and there are already boxes in the hallways. No matter where he looks, the feeling that things are changing is inescapable.  
  
For a while, they talk about the hassle of moving. His mother and sister commiserate about unreliable movers and how to pack valuables. He tries to pay attention, but his mind drifts. When the big day comes, he and Seunghyun will travel separately. Both cars need to get to Inje, it makes no sense to take two trips. Still, he pines for a cinematic moment where they drive up to the house together, the car so crammed with things they can’t see out the back window.  
  
He is brought back to reality by the chink of ceramic touching. His mother begins to clear the table, stacking plates and bowls. Their time together is almost up. He has spent less time with them lately, too busy and too stressed to make the effort. Now that it’s all going away, he regrets that. He wants to prolong this lunch, so he does something unexpected.  
  
‘I’m moving to Inje’.  
  
His mother stops what she’s doing and her eyebrows rise.  
  
‘For what?’  
  
‘To live’.  
  
Dami makes a sound that’s almost comical.  
  
‘Why? There’s nothing there,’ she says.  
  
‘I like it. I want a change'.  
  
His mother pushes the delicate pile of plates and bowls aside and folds her hands on the table.  
  
‘Are you _allowed_ to leave? Inje is a long way away. How will you work?’  
  
He shrugs. He means to say something dismissive. He’ll figure it out. He can work remotely. He can build a bedroom studio and send work back and forth, and head into Seoul when the situation demands it. There are a dozen excuses good enough, and each one of them believable.  
  
‘My contract expires in two weeks, and I’m not re-signing’.  
  
His mother sucks in a sharp intake of air. She clutches her chest in surprise. He finds her reaction a little dramatic, but maybe that’s normal. Now that he has made the decision, it feels easy and right. It feels like the most natural choice in the world, but it wasn’t like that two weeks ago. Then, it seemed impossible. After all, re-signing is safe. He has done it before, again and again. Re-signing offers protection and security.  
  
‘Are you going to another company?’ Dami asks. ‘You’re really leaving YG?’  
  
‘I’m not signing with any company. I’m taking a break’.  
  
Their mouths drop in unison and for a moment they are perfectly quiet. They think he’s lost his mind. Jiyong feels a twinge of anxiety.  
  
‘But what if they don’t take you back?’ his mother asks. ‘Can’t you tell them you want some time off? Sign the contract and take a break that way?’  
  
‘I don’t want to have a contract hanging over me,’ he answers honestly. ‘I’m tired. I want to be on my own for a while without people making money off of me’.  
  
She frowns. She looks at him with such sympathy, it makes him feel embarrassed. She’s already thinking five steps ahead to the moment he realises he’s made a terrible mistake.  
  
‘Oh, sweetie. This is such a big decision to make, shouldn’t you think about it a little more? What will you do on your own?’  
  
‘I don’t know,’ he answers, piqued. ‘Maybe I’ll start a cat hotel’.  
  
He is frustrated by their reaction, but he understands it and that only frustrates him more. He knows this is out of the blue. If he were in their shoes, he would feel the same way, but he wants them to understand anyway. He wants them to trust him, without needing an explanation.  
  
Maybe, Seunghyun has spoiled him over the years. Seunghyun has always been impulsive, so he always supported his own whims and fancies. He never needed an explanation more than ‘will this make you happy?’ and if the answer was yes, he was on board. He was always like that. Jiyong never realised the extent of that trust until he said, _‘buy the house, let’s live there’_.  
  
Dami leans closer.  
  
‘What did they say when you told them?’  
  
‘I haven’t told them,’ he answers. ‘I’ve only told Youngbae and the others. I’ll tell the company at my renegotiation meeting’.  
  
Dami’s mouth drops and the extent of her shock makes him doubt himself. The decision he’s made will be tough on everyone, but tough on him too. There will be an emotional fallout if everyone around him questions his sanity like this. He knows already, the company won’t let him go easily. They will fight for his contract. They will make him feel guilty. They will emotionally devastate him and manipulate him. They have done it before.  
  
‘They’re going to lose their minds when you tell them. It’s going to be chaos’.  
  
‘I know’.  
  
Dami leans back in her chair and folds her arms.  
  
‘The pushback will be enormous. Are you ready for that? What about the public? Your fans? Do you have a statement ready?’  
  
‘Not yet’.  
  
His mother shakes her head, like she’s struggling under an invisible burden. The drama of her reaction hurts him. She needs time to sit on this news but his heart pangs anyway. She makes him feel like a child.  
  
‘If you go through with this, you'll hurt a lot of people,’ she tells him. ‘You need to be certain’.  
  
And maybe her tone should make him reflect, because even though he has pined for this decision, and agonised over its possibilities for years, the choice itself was spontaneous and motivated by Seunghyun’s support. Maybe, he was egged on and made a rash decision without thinking about the consequences, but maybe not. The way he feels; unburdened for the first time in years, aching with excitement for a new life. That can’t be wrong. Even if it is, he deserves the chance to try and fail.  
  
‘I’m tired mom, and I’m unhappy. I want to figure my life out. Is that okay? This has been a long time coming. It didn’t happen overnight’.  
  
‘How would I know?’ she asks. ‘What am I supposed to say, when you announce suddenly that you’re changing your entire life? This is the biggest decision you’ll ever make and you expect us not to ask questions? You’ve never mentioned wanting to do this before. What are we supposed to think?’  
  
‘Can’t you just trust me?’  
  
‘When have we not?’ she asks. ‘We _always_ support you. I’m a bad mother for asking you questions?’  
  
Jiyong stutters, unable to respond to something so stupid.  
  
‘And you’re moving to Inje? To live?’  
  
_‘Yes,_ ’ he answers, feeling shamed. ‘I bought a house’.  
  
His mother makes a shocked sound and shakes her head.  
  
‘You bought a house? All the way in Inje, without telling your family? How can you make all these life-altering decisions without saying a word to us? Why Inje?’  
  
‘It’s not here’.  
  
‘What’s so wrong with where you are? I don’t understand. Haven’t you had a good life?’  
  
Jiyong frowns and hangs his head, physically hurt by this innocuous comment. This is why he didn’t tell her, or anybody else--- because no matter how well people know him, this will always be a question. Hasn’t he had a good life? Is it a weakness to be miserable when you have so much?  
  
‘He’s a grown man,’ Dami cuts in, sympathetically. ‘He’s worked hard all his life. He can take a break if he wants one’.  
  
‘Did I say otherwise?’  
  
‘You’re making him feel guilty’.  
  
‘I just want to understand. Is that wrong?’  
  
Jiyong grimaces. This is the last time they will be together for months possibly, and they are all on each-other’s nerves. He knew there would be questions. He never expected a spontaneous handshake and a _well-done_ , but he doesn’t want to be criticised. How can he make people understand what he’s been going through? How he has struggled and normalised his stress and unhappiness because to do anything else was to be ungrateful? He can’t have that conversation with his family. He wouldn’t know how. So, what can he do? Instead, he holds a hand out to his mother, before placing it on his heart.  
  
‘I don’t know what to tell you, mom. This is what I want to do, okay?’  
  
She frowns, unwilling to concede so quickly. She doesn’t want him to make this decision without rationalising it in detail. She wants to know how and why he has made this choice and _I’ve been unhappy_ isn’t good enough. If he tells her the details, she can fix it. That’s what she thinks. She can solve his problems before he takes this step that can’t be rescinded. He watches her struggle with it. She doesn’t know whether to keep prodding or to pick up the fight another time. With difficulty, she tries her best.  
  
‘What is the house like?’  
  
Jiyong feels a swell of relief. He pulls his phone from his pocket, and brings up photos of the interior and the land around the house, and passes it to her. As his mother swipes each photo, he watches her face carefully, looking for signs of approval or disapproval but she is a closed book. Dami on the other hand is easier to read. She hangs over their mother’s shoulder and makes exclamations with each swipe.  
  
Eventually, his mother slides the phone back, subdued.  
  
‘It looks very nice’.  
  
He takes his phone back, disappointed. For a moment there is silence between them and he doesn’t know what to say. He is determined to live in this house and be happy in it, but he never considered that she might disapprove of it; that she might not like this space he already loves so much.  
  
‘When will we see each other?’ She asks him suddenly. ‘We’ll have never been apart like this before. It makes me sad knowing you want to build a life so far away from us’.  
  
‘It’s not like that,’ he says. ‘I want to do this for myself. I have my reasons and I feel good about it. But it’s not that far away and we’ll still see each other. I won’t be working. You’ll see more of me than you have in years. You’ll be sick of me’.  
  
She sighs and Jiyong understands. She shares his feeling of everything irrevocably changing. They won’t be a short distance from each other anymore. No more surprise visits for lunch. No more spontaneous dinners. But he is genuine in wanting to see more of her than he has lately. He misses her. He misses everybody. He wants his new life to be centred around the people he loves. She extends her hand across the table and he takes it.  
  
‘Alright,’ she says quietly. ‘If you’re sure about this, I support you’.  
  
He squeezes her hand and feels a swell of gratitude. Even if she doesn’t understand it, she can support him regardless. Even when his ideas come on quickly and seem patently insane. He will miss her more than she realises. He retrieves his hand and puts both in his lap, relieved at finally having told someone. It is a weight off his shoulders.  
  
His relief is short lived.  
  
‘Now, are you seeing anyone?’ his mother asks.  
  
_‘What?’_  
  
‘You’re thirty-three. Last time we spoke, you weren’t in a relationship. Are you now? I worry about you moving to Inje, so far from everything. How will you meet someone in Inje? Have you thought about that?’  
  
Dami laughs and Jiyong groans.  
  
‘Mom, there are women in Inje’.  
  
‘I know, but it’s not like Seoul. It will be harder for you to meet women out there’.  
  
‘I’ll be fine’.  
  
She folds her arms warmly.  
  
‘You said you wanted a change of direction in life. Isn’t this the time to think about your future and possibly having a family? Fill that big house up’.  
  
‘I’ll do my best’.  
  
‘I’m speaking in earnest,’ she says, uncharacteristically. ‘I don’t want you to be in this same place two decades from now, wishing you had a family of your own,’ she says. ‘I support you if you want to lead a different life, but what does that mean for you exactly? Don’t you want to be in a relationship? It’s nice to have that support. You say you’ve been unhappy. Don’t you think some of those struggles might have been allayed by a girlfriend or a wife?’  
  
‘That’s really dismissive’.  
  
‘I don’t mean it to be’.  
  
‘I’ve been working since I was twelve,’ Jiyong answers, amazed. ‘I’m _tired_. I’m unhappy professionally. I’m not in this situation because I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t feel this way because I’m unmarried’.  
  
‘Still, it’s important to be supported by people who love you’.  
  
‘I _have_ that’.  
  
She tuts in answer.  
  
‘Family and friends are important, but it’s not the same. A partner is different. Why do you always skirt the subject?’ she asks. ‘We only want you to be happy. It worries me that you’re not in a relationship, if you’ll let me be honest with you. I don’t know the last time you were in one. So many of your friends are married and it doesn’t seem to phase you. You’re not in any hurry’.  
  
‘I know someone I could set you up with,’ Dami jests.  
  
Jiyong exhales sharply through his nose, frustrated to be cornered like this. Isn’t it enough that he’s dismantling his professional life. Can’t they lay off for five minutes? He can’t deny that, over the years, he’s been mostly let alone. Though his mother has asked him a dozen times, it has never been ill-meaning or forceful. Even now, this isn’t an aggressive confrontation. She’s just worried, and he can understand why. It isn’t a good look to suddenly pack up your life and seek refuge far away. It looks isolating. She doesn’t know what he has. An unburdened life with Seunghyun is all he wants right now and they’re doing that together—but she is right. He is thirty-three and how much more often now will this topic come up? For the rest of his life, he will have to explain away his apparent singleness. The older he gets, the more of an aberration it will become. On his 34 th birthday, and his 35th, and his 40th and his 50th. If he doesn’t tell her the truth, she will die thinking that he lived his life entirely alone.  
  
He feels a pang of regret for all the lies he is going to tell her and all the omissions that will grow between them. He has always been content with the necessity of that, but the reality of it feels heavy now, on the eve of a more honest life. He opens his mouth before he can stop himself.  
  
‘Both of you can stop. I _am_ seeing somebody’.  
  
‘What?’ Dami asks. ‘Who?’  
  
He hesitates, shocked at his own confession. He is unprepared and has no answers. He has never in his life prepared for this conversation, even one filled with half-truths, because he knows in his gut he is about to confess something. He won’t tell them everything, but he’ll tell _some_ truths—the rest omitted. The _who_ is something he isn’t prepared to reveal. How can he? He has never talked to Seunghyun about this. Even if he wanted to tell them the whole truth, and he doesn’t want to, he can’t do that without Seunghyun’s permission. It’s his life too.  
  
‘I don’t want to tell you’.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
He means to lie and say something sensible about privacy or wanting to wait until things are serious and concrete, but his answer is so achingly real and honest that it makes his throat close up. It is so unexpected and painful. Saying it makes his chest constrict.  
  
‘Because I’m afraid it will hurt you’.  
  
His mother extends her hand across the table but he doesn’t take it. Her bracelet connects with a plate and the sound of it makes the hairs on his neck stand up. He is on edge. The feeling creeps up on him. Just skirting the truth makes him feel ill. Saying something honest makes his stomach turn. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.  
  
‘What do you mean? Why would it hurt us?’  
  
He finds himself unable to look at his mother all of a sudden, and that makes him panic. He isn’t going to tell them, so why is he anxious? Why are his fingers beginning to ache and tingle? Why is his mouth dry? He feels a budding panic nip at his heels.  
  
‘Who is it?’ she asks. ‘You never said anything. Is this new?’  
  
He fidgets in his chair and is surprised to feel the room spin. The world turns on its axis and his stomach lurches. He fingers the edge of the table lightly and focusses on a point in front of him. A notch in the wood.  
  
‘No, it’s not’.  
  
There is a pause here, and Jiyong knows his mother is calculating in her mind, counting back the weeks until they last saw each other, because she slid the relationship question into conversation then, and he made it clear he was single. He lied. He always lies to her. He’s going to lie to her again. When she asks the next question, he’ll raise his head and lie to her face like he always does.  
  
‘How long have you been seeing each other?’  
  
On his periphery, he sees Dami rest her palms on the table, eager for information, and he is going to lie to her too. They never talk about his relationship status much, but he has relied on omission. Now, he’ll lie concretely.  
  
‘Ten years’.  
  
_‘What?’_  
  
Dami’s hands slap the table in surprise and Jiyong feels the floor go out from under him. Ten years. Those are the words that came out of his mouth. For the first time, he has said something real. Something honest that he has kept hidden from the people he loves most. Now it is out there and he can’t take it back. He can’t bring himself to look at his mother, but from the corner of his eye, he sees her shock. This is so much more than leaving the company or moving to Inje.  
  
_‘Ten years?_ ’ Dami asks, mouth agape. ‘You’re lying. How can you have been in a relationship for that long? I remember that model and the actress. They were both recent. I remember’.  
  
Jiyong keeps his eyes locked on the table and answers with a voice so unfamiliar to him. One deadened and lacking emotion.  
  
‘I never dated either. There were rumours but I never corrected them’.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
‘I wanted people to believe them. I couldn’t tell the truth’.  
  
‘Which is what?’  
  
Jiyong raises his head and looks at his mother. She isn’t looking at him, but at a place to the left of him. She looks shocked and hurt, because she knows he is telling the truth. Without needing to calculate the numbers and dates of rumoured girlfriend’s past, she has heard and understood what matters. That he has been in a relationship for ten years and never told her. He has lied to her his entire adult life.  
  
This small omission has devastated her. This woman who has always loved and shielded him from the world. She has always been there for him, and he has repaid her with a lie. He had no choice. He believes that. He was never in a good enough place to risk telling her the truth. He and Seunghyun have always been secure, but there was always a fear in the back of his head that external circumstances could take it all away from him. That the wrong reaction could send him off the deep end. That if the worst happened, he would push Seunghyun away. It isn’t until now, that they are engaged and starting a new life together that he knows that won’t happen. Their problems will be weathered together. If he tells the truth, just this once, and it blows up in his face--- maybe with Seunghyun he can survive it.  
  
He suddenly feels a swell of desperation and heartbreak because in an instant, without being fully conscious of it, he knows he is going to tell her everything. Right here and now, he is going to bear his soul to her and maybe this will be the end of it. Maybe she won’t love him anymore. Maybe this vision of her, quietly devastated, will be all he has left of her. He reaches across the table, but she doesn’t take his hand.  
  
‘Mom,’ he starts, voice breaking immediately. ‘Do you _love_ me?’  
  
She closes her eyes because she anticipates something bad. Something worse than finding out your son has lied to you for _years_. She braces herself but has no idea. When she opens her eyes again, she avoids his gaze. She finds that place to the left of him.    
  
‘Of course’.  
  
Jiyong’s jaw begins to quake. His lips tremble. He closes his fist on the table but doesn’t withdraw it. It matters for him to keep it there. A declaration of intent. He is reaching out. He doesn’t know why, today of all days, but he has to _tell_ her. Suddenly, it is the only possible action. His voice comes out in pieces.  
  
‘Tell me? Before I say what I have to say, please tell me you love me’.  
  
‘Of course I love you’.  
  
To his left, he can see Dami from the corner of his eye. She lays a hand on his free arm and he turns back to her. Dami, who has been so kind to him up to this point, who has always supported him, who has _never_ judged him. She has been the best sister he could ask for.  
  
_‘What is it?’_  
  
Jiyong tries to smile but it morphs into a frown so real that her eyes water with him. So full of love, she feels his pain without knowing what it is. In an instant, every part of him aches. Every inch of his body grows heavy and hot. He feels faint. He tries to close the doors around his heart. He tries to brace himself for life on the other side of what he says next, because all of this? His family. These people he _needs_ \--- they might all go away. After this, he might never be happy again.  
  
He is too cowardly to look at his mother, so he looks at Dami instead. He looks her in the eyes and a tear runs down his face before he says the first word. He can’t stop it. His entire body quakes. He has never been more afraid. He doesn’t know why, but he is terrified. He physically hurts. These few seconds are the worst of his life.  
  
‘It’s a man’.  
  
Dami’s brow furrows in confusion. He pulls out of her grip to spare himself the pain of her pulling away from him once she realises. He wipes a tear from his cheek. He tries to protect himself somehow. He tries to brace himself for the worst.  
  
‘I’m in a relationship with a _man’_.  
  
From the corner of his eye, he sees his mother drop. Her head drops violently into her hands. She covers her face and he turns, shocked at the sight of her. She is perfectly still. Silent. A woman in a cocoon. Dami’s voice draws his attention back and he is surprised by the difference between them. Dami’s brow is furrowed, but she isn’t in shock. She isn’t pained. She hasn’t pulled away from him. She lowers her voice, but he doesn’t know why.  
  
‘You never told me you liked men’.  
  
In another life he could laugh at this. Instead, he looks back to his mother. At her unmoving, sealed-off body. She has created a wall between them. It is so devastating to him, for a moment, he feels nothing at all. His mother like this is so alien to him—he can’t comprehend it.  
  
‘How could I tell you?’ he asks vacantly. ‘Or anybody? _Mom---_ ’  
  
He reaches out to her, but all he manages are a few outstretched fingers beneath the table. He wants to bridge the distance between them. He wants her to say something.  
  
‘Who is it?’ Dami asks.  
  
‘I don’t want to say’.  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
She is impervious to the weight of his confession or his mother’s silence.  
  
‘Do we know them?’  
  
‘Yes’.  
  
‘We both know them?’ she asks, gesturing between her and their mother. She lowers her voice even further. There is a hint of admonishment in it. ‘Are you dating a family friend?’  
  
‘Jesus, Dami. _No’._  
  
‘Who then?’  
  
Jiyong feels something in him slacken. Something taut snapping. In an instant, he is unmoored and he breaks a promise to himself never to abuse Seunghyun’s trust, because when Dami asks him, he simply tells her the truth.  
  
‘Seunghyun. Choi Seunghyun’.  
  
Dami’s mouth falls agape, finally shocked by something, but Jiyong can’t agonise over the implications of that because the second he has finished speaking, his mother breaks from her shell. She stands from the table so quickly the plates clatter, and she walks away. Simple. Quiet. She is there one moment and gone the next.  
  
Jiyong watches her retreat. His breath hitches before she is even out of sight. By the time she has walked the length of the hallway and closed a bedroom door behind her, he has built a wall around his heart, so unprepared for this reaction he can’t even understand it. He can’t take it in. He doesn’t feel anything in response to it, just amazement. He told her and she walked away.  
  
Dami leans across the table and quickly grabs him. She holds onto his wrist and becomes a surrogate mother to him, as if she understands the magnitude of the situation before he does. Like she is feeling on his behalf. She tries to comfort him. She shushes him and tells him everything will be alright, but he doesn’t know why. He isn’t crying. He doesn’t know why she’s doing it.  
  
Eventually, she sits back down, following his lead. The way she looks at him with concern makes him feel like a monster. Like a robot who can’t feel. She looks guilty when she speaks. Her voice so quiet he barely hears her.  
  
‘Tell me you’re serious,’ she says. ‘If this is a joke, I’ll never speak to you again’.  
  
He looks at her, confused. Is what a joke? His confession? In what universe would anyone say that and not mean it. She takes his reaction as affirmation.  
  
‘TOP?’  
  
He nods.  
  
‘Do you _love_ him?’  
  
‘Yes’.  
  
Simple. Ten years of secrecy and omission over in a few words. Somehow, now, it is easy to say the unsaid things. The damage has been done. The honesty doesn’t sting. In his heart, he feels his mother walk away from him again, and he knows this part can’t hurt him. He feels detached from it completely.  
  
‘Does he love _you?’_  
  
‘Yes’.  
  
Dami leans back in her chair. She doesn’t do it to get away from him or to put space between them. She just takes a breath and runs a hand through her hair. In the part of him that can still feel, he is surprised by her reaction. Maybe, because she seems so receptive, he pushes her. A test to see how much she can take. Maybe he wants her to walk away from him too and get it over and done with.  
  
‘He asked me to marry him’.  
  
Dami claps a hand over her mouth and Jiyong is shocked by that. He can see the expression that lies beneath it and a piece of him comes back to life, because there is something about the way she looks at him that tells him she is blind-sided by all this, but she is keeping up with him, and despite the suddenness of his confession, and her confusion, she knows he's telling the truth and her gut instinct is to be happy for him. She is rolling with the punches.  
  
‘I said yes’.  
  
A high pitched sound comes from behind her hand and her shoulders move, as she quickly stamps on the ground beneath the table in excitement or disbelief. She pulls her hand from her mouth and leaves it hovering for a moment in mid-air.  
  
_‘Shut up’._  
  
She lets her hand drop to the table and she shakes her head.  
  
‘You’re not joking? A real proposal?’ She asks quietly. ‘With a ring?’  
  
Jiyong nods. He doesn’t know what compels him, but Dami’s reactions are so innocent and so without disappointment, he wants to _tell_ her. He wants to show her. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, because he has a ring in his pocket that he never in a million years thought he could show anybody. A ring Seunghyun bought for him only three days ago--- a simple silver band with an inscription on the inside that says _‘til death_. He pulls it out of his pocket and slides it onto his finger. Dami’s eyes widen and she gestures for his hand, so he offers it to her. She looks at the ring from all angles, moving his hand this way and that. Eventually she pulls the band from his finger and eyes the inscription within.  
  
‘Gosh, that’s a bit morbid’.  
  
‘I like it’.  
  
She shakes her head, dazed.  
  
‘This is real?’ she asks. ‘You’re honestly telling me you’ve been in a relationship for ten years? And it’s this serious?’ she asks, holding up the ring. ‘You’re not just dating but full blown in love with each other? _Til death_?’ she asks. ‘Choi Seunghyun? Cross your heart and hope to die?’  
  
Jiyong nods in answer. Hearing the truth come out of somebody else is confusing. Not in his wildest dreams did he ever think it was possible for someone else to know.  
  
‘How did this happen?’ she asks.  
  
‘How it usually does, I suppose’.  
  
Dami rests her head in her hand, in a wistful sort of pose, his ring still in her hand.  
  
‘How did it start though?’ Dami asks quietly. ‘I mean you were friends. You two have been friends for so long. He used to stay at our house when you were barely out of high school’.  
  
Jiyong shrugs.  
  
‘I always knew. Since we first met each other. There was always something there’.  
  
‘Was he the first or did you like guys before him?’  
  
‘He was the first’.  
  
‘And you really love him?’  
  
‘ _So much_ ’.  
  
Dami smiles, but it’s a sad smile. Without warning, her eyes begin to water and she cries. Just a few errant tears as she speaks to him. It takes him by surprise.  
  
‘I’m happy for you, but I’m so sad you didn’t tell me. I’m so sad you didn’t trust me with this. I’ve always wondered how you were doing. You’re so sensitive and you’re so kind. People will take advantage, so I worry. But all this time, you’ve been living a secret life and I didn’t know. Someone _proposed_ to you and I didn’t get to share that moment with you. We’re close, this makes me really sad. I’m sorry. It’s hard to think you’ve been living a double life for ten years. That’s such a long time’.  
  
An unexpected tear runs down Jiyong’s face and he wipes it away, because her perspective makes him uncomfortable. It makes him feel guilty, even though—if he could live it all again, he would do it the same.  
  
‘I love you,’ he says earnestly, ‘but how could I tell you?’  
  
She looks at him sympathetically, and he shrugs in lieu of elaborating. He can’t explain to her the fear that kept him quiet. For fifteen years, since the first time he looked at a man and realised it wasn’t just women he liked but them too, he’s felt it. People in this country come out to their families and are excommunicated. It has happened to people in his extended social circle. He has _seen_ it with his own two eyes. He has felt the devastation. People are vilified for being what he is. Not always, but it happens and when it does, it’s brutal. And it isn’t just fear he has had to contend with, but bitterness and pain. She can’t know the heartbreak of travelling, of visiting far-flung places with the knowledge that were he born somewhere else, he might have had a chance. He has seen men hold hands in Paris and women kiss in the United States. He and Seunghyun have had the most beautiful, passionate, comfortable life together—behind closed doors; In the same two apartments; In a single car; The occasional touch of two hands in an empty elevator the closest they have come to existing in a public space. Their relationship has been easy, but in this overarching way it has also been incredibly hard. He doesn’t know how to explain that to her—that he wasn’t just afraid of losing his life and his family. He was also stifled by his own bitterness and pain. It has _stunted_ him.  
  
He looks around the dining room and shrugs.  
  
‘Mom left’.  
  
The fear of coming out isn’t baseless but tangible. He is living it. They just witnessed it.  
  
‘Give her a few minutes,’ Dami says. ‘This is a lot to process all at once. Mom loves you, you know that’.  
  
‘Does she?’  
  
Dami frowns, but there’s frustration in it.  
  
‘I know this is hard for you, but you can’t honestly believe she wouldn’t love you anymore, just because you’re interested in men’.  
  
He gestures for his ring, and Dami returns it.  
  
‘She wouldn’t look at me’.  
  
‘She’s upset,’ Dami answers. ‘I understand _why._ You’ve been living a double life for ten years. It hurts that you’ve lied. Truthfully? I feel like an idiot. It feels like you’ve been playing us for fools. I know that’s not what happened. I understand you had reasons for not telling us, but it still sucks’.  
  
‘You think I didn't want to?’ Jiyong asks. ‘That I wanted to hide myself from my family? I didn’t. It’s lonely. But I thought I had to do that. Don’t make me feel guilty for not saying anything sooner. It had nothing to do with you, or her’.  
  
Dami sighs, but says nothing.  
  
Jiyong spins the ring on his finger.  
  
‘She’s locked herself in a bedroom. I didn’t think she’d do that’.  
  
‘What do you want me to say?’ Dami shrugs. ‘Mom loves you. We both know it. All she wants is for you to be happy. That’s _all_ she wants. If a man is going to do that for you, she’ll be okay with it. I know she will. That’s not her problem. She’s in there thinking she’s a bad mother because she didn’t know this about you already, that’s what I think. She’s wondering why you never told her. You’ve always been close. Finding out that you have secrets on this scale is going to be hard for her. Up until this moment, she thought she knew everything about you’.  
  
Jiyong hangs his head, wanting to believe in this tamer version of events than the alternative; that she was so overcome with disappointment, she couldn’t bear the sight of him.  
  
‘She didn’t leave until I mentioned Seunghyun’s name’.  
  
‘Well, Seunghyun’s been in our house, Jiyong. He’s been part of our lives for a long time. It’s hard to grasp that someone we know is actually the love of your life or something. We’ve known him since you were both kids’.  
  
Jiyong replays the uncomfortable moment in his head. He watches his mother walk away from him unemotionally. He hears the click of the bedroom door. A quiet retreat. Still so unnatural, it doesn’t feel real. A tear slips over his cheek. Did that really happen? Jesus Christ. The reality of it starts to dawn on him. It starts to tug at him. What if she really hates him? Hates who he _is?_  
  
What if Dami is wrong? All those people disowned by their families, didn’t they have some hope of things turning out alright? If they didn’t why would they have come out at all? Maybe deep down, everyone thinks what Dami is saying, that happiness is all that really matters. But what if? His mother left him, body and soul. That’s what it felt like. Estrangement. In thirty-three years, she has never looked so disconnected.  
  
‘Go talk to her,’ she says.  
  
His stomach turns at the thought.  
  
‘I _can’t’._  
  
‘What do you think will happen? What are you so afraid of?  
  
He shrugs, tears pooling at his chin. He sometimes imagined this moment, in daydreams and moments of fancy. In his head, he told his mother a thousand times, and each time there was a different response; some kind and some awful, but all better than silence.  
  
‘That she won't talk to me'.  
  
That would kill him. They have always been close. Apart from his relationship with Seunghyun, he has told her everything he could justifiably tell her about his life. To shout or rail against him would mean a line of communication was still open, but for her to say nothing? That will mean it’s over already. That what he has done is so unforgivable she isn’t even willing to try.  
  
Dami reaches out and holds his hand on the tabletop.  
  
‘Listen to me,’ she says. ‘I love you. Mom loves you. Dad loves you. There is nothing you can ever do to change that’.  
  
He hangs his head.  
  
‘Doesn’t it bother you? What I've said?’  
  
She squeezes his fingers.  
  
‘Jiyong, I love you. If you’re happy, I’m happy. That’s it’.  
  
He feels such a swell of gratitude, it almost bowls him over. He squeezes her fingers.  
  
‘I know,’ she says, ‘absolutely, that mom will be okay with this. She just needs to process it. But you need to talk to her. The longer you wait, the worse it will get. You’ll build it up into this big impossible thing. It will be better for both of you to just get it over with’.  
  
He pulls his hand from Dami’s and wipes his face, his fingers coming away wet. He wishes Seunghyun were here. He thinks about calling him and telling him what he’s done, but he doesn’t know how Seunghyun will react. He left for an innocuous family lunch. It will be hard to explain the fucking mess he’s caused. That he outed him and that everything will be different now. In his heart he knows Seunghyun will be fine with it. He will say all the right things. He’ll listen and be the perfect partner, because he always has been. If he called him now, he would say the same things Dami is saying.  
  
‘You’ve been this brave already today. You can make it stretch a little further,’ she says.  
  
He sniffs and wipes his face a second time.  
  
‘Alright’.  
  
Dami reaches across the table one last time and squeezes his fingers.  
  
‘I _promise_ you, it will be okay’.  
  
And maybe he chooses to hear that in her voice and Seunghyun’s also, because he needs that. Still, she gets the credit. She has done better than he ever hoped. It isn’t that he thought she would turn her back on him, but he has asked a lot of her. So, he pushes his chair back and looks her in the eyes with a hand over his chest.  
  
He wants to thank her for everything she’s done. He wants to thank her for loving him unconditionally. For saying the right things, or for not saying the wrong things. For not being disappointed in him. That most of all. But he can’t say anything. His throat tightens. Tears continue down his cheeks, and it takes everything he has to keep it together. If he opens his mouth, he will explode in a torrent of heaving sobs because he is so relieved that somebody finally knows. He is so relieved, but still so afraid.  
  
But she seems to get it all anyway. She knows.  
  
‘I want to hear all about it,’ she says encouragingly. ‘When this is all said and done, I want to know everything. The whole ten years, okay?’  
  
He smiles weakly and nods.  
  
‘And listen,’ she says. ‘I’m proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you, but I’m proud of you today. You can do this. It will be alright’.  
  
He wipes his nose with his sleeve like a child, and he walks. He doesn’t think about it because there isn’t time. He simply has to act or he won’t do it. He follows the steps his mother took fifteen minutes earlier and he knocks on the door at the end of the hallway. She doesn’t answer, so he lets himself in. Quick. Brave.  
  
Inside, his mother is facing away from him. She is sitting on the edge of the bed on the opposite side, her head hanging out of sight. He wonders how long she has been like this.  
  
He closes the door behind him, lip already trembling. He leans against the door. He wants to move around the bed and sink to the floor in front of her. He wants to see her face and clap his hands together and beg her to say something. He wants to bury his face in her lap like he did when he was a kid. He wants her to card her fingers through his hair and tell him it’s alright.  
  
He suddenly wants to be home. He wants to be far away from here. He wants to throw himself into Seunghyun’s arms and cry his guts out because this is too hard. What can he say? He wants to apologise but he can’t, because he hasn’t done anything wrong. He wants her to understand him, but there is so much to say and no way to say it.  
  
He has spent a lifetime wishing he could tell her someday. It always felt like an impossibility, that he and Seunghyun would spend their whole lives together in the dark. He wanted to tell her more than anyone. He wanted her to know he was happy. Every day for ten years, he has wanted her to know that. It is liberating--- to know that she knows now. Even with her back to him. Even now, with her saying nothing. If she never speaks to him again, there will always be a part of him glad that he made this choice. There will always be a part of him glad to have said it.  
  
But the rest of him aches. Because she is his mother, and even knowing who he is and never faltering for one second, never wishing that he were different or that he could change; a part of him will always wish he _could_ if she can’t support him. If she can’t love him like this, a part of him will always resent being this person, and he doesn’t want to feel that way. He doesn’t ever want to feel like that.  
  
He means to say something brave. Can’t you understand me? Something like that. Something defiant but still reaching out for her approval. But he doesn’t say that. The second he opens his mouth, he cries. He sobs like a child because he can’t get through his life without her. He needs her to be there. He needs her to love him. He is afraid because in his heart of hearts he always assumed she would react differently when he told her. That she would embrace him. Now that she has walked away from him, he is untethered. All bets are off. Maybe this _is_ a deal-breaker. Maybe she won’t love him anymore. He claps a hand over his mouth and different, pathetic words slip through his fingers.  
  
‘Please don’t hate me’.  
  
Now, at last, she turns around. Her face is wet and he hates himself for doing this to her. It makes him cry harder. It makes his shoulders slump and his knees weak. She shakes her head and wipes her eyes and shrugs, the way he always does himself.  
  
‘I don’t hate you’.  
  
She says it softly and resolutely, but so full of emotion. There are so many layers of pain in her voice, he doesn’t know what to do.  
  
‘Why didn’t you _tell_ me?’ she cries.  
  
Her voice breaks up and she turns away from him, shielding her face.  
  
Jiyong’s breath shudders out of him as he tries to get control of himself, but he can’t. He moves around the bed to where she is and sinks down in front of her. His knees hit the ground and he grabs hold of her legs and he looks up into her shielded face, crying like a child.  
  
‘I’m _sorry_ ’.  
  
From behind her hands, she asks again, through tears.  
  
‘Why didn’t you _tell_ me?’  
  
He slumps and stares at her middle. He holds her knees, reluctant to let go of her. Now that he has her, now that she’s talking, he doesn’t want to let go. If he stays here, with his hands on her, she can’t leave. Everything will be okay. When he says it, he sounds like a blubbering child.  
  
‘I was afraid you wouldn’t love me anymore’.  
  
She lowers her hands and Jiyong sees the pitiful frown on her face.  
  
‘How could you think that?’  
  
She looks at him, devastated, and it makes him feel ashamed. Like he’s a horrible person and a worse son for not telling her this private, painful thing--- but he was afraid. He’s _still_ afraid. Afraid that she won’t understand him, that nobody will. That they’ll turn away from him or try to turn this meaningful beautiful part of his life into something ugly. Maybe it is wrong of him to assume the worst in people, but it was easier to say nothing. It was easier not to risk it, because he needs his mother and his father and Dami and everyone else. He needs them to be here and any chance of losing them is still too much.  
  
‘I was _scared’._  
  
‘I’m your _mother’._  
  
She slaps her chest, and Jiyong tries to brush tears from his face.  
  
‘I’m your mother!’ she says emotionally.  
  
She shakes her head but freezes in mid-motion. She goes rigid and quiet. She grabs him and pulls his wrist into her lap.  
  
‘What is this?’  
  
He follows her gaze to the ring on his finger and he stammers, unable to answer.  
  
‘What _is_ this?’  
  
A sob leaches out of him and he drops his head onto her knees. His answer comes out in a whisper.  
  
‘An engagement ring’.  
  
He lifts his head and catches the look of dismay and grief on her face. It makes him want to die. He can’t stand it. She clutches her chest.  
  
‘You’re _engaged?’_  
  
‘I’m _sorry’._  
  
He says it over and over. I’m sorry. He doesn’t know what for. He is so desperate to make her happy, he would apologise for anything. He can’t stop.  
  
She covers her face and wipes away her tears, but something worse takes their place. No more quiet sobs or hitching breaths, but whispers under her breath, as if she is praying to God.  
  
‘How can I bear it?’ she asks quietly, speaking to a higher power.  
  
Jiyong’s chest hitches. This breaks his heart. It takes him back to lectures from the pulpit about sin. It makes him think she is asking for deliverance on his behalf. That she is praying to God for a better son.  
  
‘Ten years!’ she exclaims. ‘Why didn’t you _tell_ me?’  
  
He stammers again, unable to say the unsatisfactory truth; that it was always too hard and too scary, or even worse—that even though he craved and pined for this secret to come out, a part of him could have carried it to the grave. Ultimately, he could have had a happy life without her ever knowing.  
  
‘Ten years,’ she says again. ‘And you’re engaged? It’s this serious?’ She picks up his hand in a way similar to what Dami did. ‘How could you not tell me about this? Your own mother’.  
  
_‘Mom’._  
  
‘This is all I ever wanted for you,’ she says. ‘All I wanted was for you to be happy. Was I a bad mother to you? You couldn’t talk to me?’ A tear rolls down her face. ‘Am I so horrible? Have I not loved you enough? What more could I have done? Tell me’.  
  
Jiyong frowns and his heart aches at her sincerity, because Dami was right. She is taking it personally. This secret he has laboured under for ten years has become a reflection of her parenting. He didn’t tell her because she is a bad mother. He wipes his face and shakes his own head, frustrated suddenly by her selfishness. That she could hurt him so badly for a reason as stupid as this.  
  
‘That’s why you _left_ me back there? Because you felt sorry for yourself?’  
  
She releases his hand and wipes her eyes one final time.  
  
‘I felt sorry for _you_ ’.  
  
_‘Why?’_  
  
‘Because life will be hard for you’. She fingers a pleat in her skirt and shakes her head. ‘I don’t want you to struggle in life. I don’t want your life to be harder than it has to be’.  
  
‘What are you _talking_ about?’  
  
‘This country—’ she says, choking up momentarily.  
  
‘Hates _gay people?’_  
  
She sniffs her answer but he understands her meaning all the same. He is frustrated by it. He can’t answer her at first, he is too dazed. He sits back on his heels and stares at her shoes, tears drying up at last. She didn’t turn her back on him because she was angry. Instead, she feels sorry for him, and that causes him _real_ pain. Maybe this is worse. He told her who he is, and her first thought was to pity him.    
  
‘Mom,’ he says quietly, unable to look her in the eye. ‘I didn’t become interested in men yesterday. I know it’s hard. I’ve been living it’.  
  
She makes a quiet sound and he looks at her, shaking his head in amazement.  
  
‘It’s tough,’ he says. ‘I know that. And it’s made a thousand times harder because everywhere I go, there are a thousand eyes watching me. If anyone found out about this, the fallout would destroy this family and everyone close to me, and I have to carry that around with me every day of my life’.  
  
She looks at him pityingly and he can’t stand it. It makes him want to shout and rage. He just wants her to understand but there is too much to say and no way to say it. He can only say the most obvious thing. The one thing he most needs her to understand.  
  
‘But I’m happy,’ he says. ‘I’m really happy. If you’re going to be hurt by what I’ve told you, don’t let it be for this. I don’t want you to pity me? I love my life. I wouldn’t change any part of it’.  
  
She frowns and he can only say it again, because he can handle anger and rejection but not pity. She just doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what his life has been because he hasn’t _told_ her. He tries to tell her now in simple words that won’t overwhelm her. The rest can come later, but for now she has to know _this._  
  
‘I am so happy to be who I am. I don’t want to make life harder for you, but what I can do? You wanted me to be happy and I _am_. I love my life, and I want you to love me in spite of it. I want you to tell me this doesn’t hurt you’.  
  
A tear rolls down her cheek and she shakes her head.  
  
‘It hurts me that I’ve missed so much of your life. That’s what hurts me’.  
  
He frowns and grabs her hand, squeezing it tightly.  
  
‘Can’t you understand why I didn’t tell you? It wasn’t about _you_. It was just too hard. It was too fucking scary. Keeping it a secret made me feel safer. I did what I had to. I’m sorry if that hurts you’.  
  
‘There’s so much about you I don’t know’.  
  
‘I’m the same person,’ he answers desperately. ‘There’s just a little piece of me you didn’t know. That’s it’.  
  
She pats his hand, and he doesn’t know how to read that because she hasn’t said what he needs her to say. He is insecure. His nerves are frayed.  
  
‘Do you still love me?’  
  
Still visibly upset, she shakes her head as if the question is idiotic.  
  
‘Of course I love you’.  
  
He drops his head into her lap and his chest hitches, so relieved to hear her definitively say it. Moreso to have her touch him with tenderness. She lays a hand on the back of his head and he lets ten years of worry break away from him, because maybe she doesn’t understand yet. He has dumped so much on her--- but she loves him anyway, and he can make her understand everything else. He can fill her in on the last ten years and when she knows the whole truth of it, she can be happy for him instead of worried--- and he wants that. He wants to tell her everything. He wants to see the look on her face when he explains how blessed he is. He wants to know how it feels to tell those stories, to be able to tell another human being what Seunghyun means to him. The worst part of the last ten years has been not being able to share his highs.  
  
He sniffs and pulls himself up off the ground, sitting beside her on the bed, with their held hands between them.  
  
‘You’re really happy?’ she asks.  
  
_‘Yes’._  
  
‘And you’re getting married?’  
  
Jiyong squeezes her fingers and shrugs. He offers a wan smile, because that’s complicated and a conversation for another day.  
  
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘They don’t recognise it here, but maybe someday, you know? I hope so’.  
  
She sighs again, a great heaving sigh in lieu of tears. She is still emotional and frayed. This is a lot of information all at once. Now, on the other side of it, he thinks she’s done her best. She could have done worse.  
  
‘You love him?’  
  
He smiles now. He can’t not smile. Because she loves him and he can tell her the truth, knowing soon enough she’ll understand how true his answer really is. He wants to reassure her.  
  
‘I am so madly in love with him, mom. It’s been years and I still feel that way’.  
  
‘Seunghyun? Who I’ve known all this time?’  
  
‘Yeah. It’s always been him mom. Since I was a teenager. It was always him’.  
  
She jostles his hand in hers, overcome with emotion.  
  
‘But you’re moving?’ she says. ‘To Inje?’  
  
He laughs and looks up at the ceiling, blinking back the right kind of tears. Tears of relief at being able to speak honestly.  
  
‘He’s coming with me. I told him I was unhappy and I wanted to move, and he said, _‘let’s go’._  
  
‘You’ll live together?’  
  
'I don't want to shock you,' he jests lightly, 'but we’ve been living together for a long time. In Inje, we won't have to be so careful. I’m excited to go’.  
  
She squeezes his fingers and nods, still trying to settle herself down.  
  
‘I’ve worried about you for so long. Your father and I talk about you so often and we always wondered. I thought it must be so hard for you, being who you are, being so well-known, how were you ever going to find someone?’  
  
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner’.  
  
She pats his hand again and nods.  
  
‘I wish I knew. It’s a shock to think you’ve been on your own, only to find out suddenly that you have a life with somebody,’ she says tiredly. ‘Even if it’s not who I expected. Please give me some time to understand everything’.  
  
He squeezes her hand and she speaks reassuringly.  
  
‘I’m happy if you’re happy. If you have someone who loves you’.  
  
Jiyong sniffs, grateful for this simple sentiment. It is all he needs and wants from her. Today, tomorrow and the next day. For her to be okay with his happiness, whatever form it takes. To not feel sad about it.  
  
‘Not for one second with him have I ever felt unloved or unhappy,’ Jiyong tells her quietly but concretely. ‘Not one. I am so lucky to have him in my life. Most people could only dream of having what I have, so please don’t worry about me, okay?’  
  
There is a muffled sound behind him and he turns to find Dami in the open doorway, pouting with a hand over her heart.  
  
_‘Jiyong’._  
  
He smiles but it morphs into a sob, and his eyes water again, because they both know. Even if there is so much left to explain and still so much adjusting to be done. They know, and they love him anyway. He always hoped and prayed they would, but fear is a powerful thing and he was never brave enough to risk it.  
  
He struggles to comprehend it, but in the back of his mind he understands the implications of them knowing. He is about to embark on an entirely new life, and there will come a future now where he might share his home with Seunghyun and his family together. He can have Christmas and Chuseok and every damn holiday he likes with a full house of people he loves most in the world. Later, they can be proud of him for being so well adjusted. For making a life for himself against impossible odds. He wants them to be proud of his happiness and proud of Seunghyun and proud of who they are when they are together. He wants his family to be proud of the little family he has made for himself outside of them.   
  
Dami sits on the bed behind him and she wraps her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek.  
  
‘We love you’.  
  
He leans into her and cries for the last time, out of sheer relief.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he finally makes it home, Seunghyun knows the second he walks through the door that something has happened. For a moment, he doesn’t know how to catch Seunghyun up, but after a lingering hug it all comes out in a torrent and Seunghyun is overwhelmingly okay with it, when it’s all said and done. He says all the right things. He is perfect.  
  
Jiyong decides not to tell his father yet. He can’t go through the process a second time so soon. So, he will visit his parents in Samcheok when they are settled and he’ll tell his father then. He doesn’t want this to be a secret any longer. He doesn’t want Seunghyun to be a secret from them. He just needs to wait a few weeks longer. He knows deep down that everything will be okay, but it will be hard for his father at first, and even harder to tell him. Having an escape route by way of living a long car ride away won’t hurt.  
  
In the days before her move, Dami calls and asks for help packing. As an addendum, she asks very innocently if Seunghyun can come too because she needs the additional hands. Jiyong tells him as a joke, but Seunghyun wants to go so he has no choice but to take his newly unveiled fiancé to his sister’s apartment to lug boxes in and out of the elevator. She institutes a policy whereby someone has to be downstairs, someone upstairs, and in the elevator to get the boxes down most efficiently, but she makes _him_ go downstairs, leaving Seunghyun upstairs alone with her.  
  
When they finally finish and he skulks back upstairs, Seunghyun and Dami are like best friends from way-back, and Jiyong waves it off. He knows she’s been probing him and he’s been running his mouth. He doesn’t want to know how much of his private life has been unearthed in his absence. He just slumps on the remaining couch by Seunghyun’s side and drops his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder, relishing the opportunity to do it in someone else’s presence. At the end of the day, it’s like they’ve always shared this secret together. Dami is so casual and easy, Jiyong can’t begrudge her the physical labour, because being able to go somewhere with Seunghyun and to touch him on the back or smile at him a certain way—has been a total luxury. They share a chaste peck in front of her and he blushes at the unexpected rush of being able to take ownership of him. It is a gift.  
  
Days later, Dami is packed and gone and he misses her the second her car disappears down the street. He misses the catching up they won’t get to do now, all the dinners and lunches that will be postponed. They will talk on the phone, but it isn’t the same. She has done more for him in the last few weeks than he ever thought possible.  
  
He doesn’t help his parents pack, but he has that drink with his father, talking about innocuous things for the most part. He doesn’t have the heart to tell his father about quitting the company, he has always been so proud of him, so they talk about his work and he plays along. He talks about all the non-existent things he has coming up, but his enthusiasm is real in some respects because in his head he tells his father the truth. That he is moving away and indulging himself by living a different life. In a few weeks, he’ll know everything.  
  
The company don’t let him go easily. At first, they think it’s a joke. They think he wants a better deal, a better negotiation, a bigger cut. By the end, they offer him a deal so good, he can hardly see the benefit of keeping him. But still, he turns them down. He has to. He tells them he might come back in a few years, but he needs some real time off in the meantime, with no contract hanging over him. He hopes that might allay some of the negativity and despair, but when he finally walks out the door for the last time, there are tears staining his face and he feels sick from the stress of it. He feels guilty, like he has bitten the hand that feeds him, but feeling that way makes him feel guilty too, because he knows he paid them back with interest.  
  
But he’s free, at last.  
  
The company won’t make the announcement until he is already gone, already closeted away in his new home. He gave them an official statement to release and that’s all he can do for now. He doesn’t have the courage to explain himself more directly. Not yet. He will hide away in Inje, in a technological vacuum until the pushback dies down. He doesn’t want to read articles about himself. He doesn’t want to see the intimations people make or the things they will say about him. He wants a chance to breathe and ease into his new life without being pummelled by the opinions of others. He is worried that if he doesn’t shield himself from it, those other voices will overwhelm him. They will make him feel guilty for looking after himself. They will make him feel selfish.  
  
The future, he’ll figure out. All that matters is that he’ll have time for himself. He’ll have the space to breathe and figure out what he wants to do next. With Seunghyun beside him, he can do anything. They both can. Whatever Seunghyun wants to do, he’ll be there to support him. They will figure the rest of their lives out together.

  
  
* * *  


  
On the first night in their new home, they share a mattress on the floor. Jiyong holds Seunghyun’s hand and watches the light from the moon dart to and fro across the ceiling, mingling with the shadows from the trees outside. The balcony doors are wide open and the feeling is so liberating. He isn’t hiding. They are out in the world—even if the world isn’t close enough to see them. There is a distinction. There is a difference. It makes him feel whole to not close the blinds. To not worry about the outside peering in.  
  
The house is mostly put together from the moment they arrive. The bed doesn’t arrive in time, so for a few days they will slum it--- but everything else is perfect. They will change things here and there, but it feels like home the second they walk in. Moving in is the first time Seunghyun sees the place, and Jiyong is surprised by his reaction, the way he moves from room to room, contented. No part of him regrets his choice. No part of him finds fault with anything he sees.  
  
As they lay together in the dark, his mother calls to check in and he tells her about the bedframe and the mattress on the floor. She scolds him for not being prepared.  
  
‘Don’t blame me. I didn’t order it or follow it up. That was Seunghyun’s responsibility. All _my_ jobs are done’.  
  
Seunghyun crushes his fingers, their hands still held between them, and Jiyong winces wordlessly, hurrying off the phone so they can enjoy their first night together. Too tired to do more than sleep and soak it all in, Seunghyun rolls to face him.  
  
‘Don’t dob on me’.  
  
Jiyong smiles and kisses the back of Seunghyun’s hand, then each finger individually.  
  
‘Now that my mommy knows about you, every time you do something wrong, I get to tell on you’.  
  
And maybe he does. The thought makes him laugh, though there is some benefit to having someone to call on the rare instances they fight. For the most part though, it is just funny to make Seunghyun wince.  
  
‘Oh, Jesus,’ he sighs. ‘I’m lucky your sister gave me carte blanche to do the same and believe me, I’ve already given her a long list of complaints about you. I have her on speed dial’.  
  
Seunghyun pulls him in by their held hands, and Jiyong nestles his head on his shoulder. He gets comfortable and closes his eyes, so happy already to have made this decision. So happy to be together in a new place, starting fresh. He kisses Seunghyun’s chest.  
  
‘What complaints?’  
  
Seunghyun wraps his arms around him and talks into his hair.  
  
‘God, where do I start? I hate that you won’t throw those spongebob boxer shorts away, and you never let me have the air conditioning on in the car’.  
  
‘It hurts my _throat’._  
  
‘And you eat too slowly, it drives me crazy. And the way you crack your knuckles too. Stop doing that. And also, your kisses are not long enough, in my humble opinion.’  
  
Jiyong smiles and lifts his head.  
  
‘Well I can work on that one’.  
  
‘Would you?’  
  
  
  



End file.
